For Paradise
by Reina del Mar
Summary: Elena commits suicide, in the hopes of a new life in Middle Earth but she finds that her paradise isn't as perfect as she thought. Rating for violence. chapter 4 up
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all of its places, names, and plots belong to the Tolkien Estate. The rest of the characters belong to me.

Author's note: This is not your average fanfiction or Mary-Sue. Elena's frustrations are based off of what I, and a lot of other teens face, but it is not a happy little Mary-Sue where a teen goes to Middle Earth and Legolas/Aragorn/whoever-floats-your-boat falls in love with her. This is a story about how a teen gives up everything for a dream of what may be, but finds that Paradise isn't as perfect as she thought. The story is dark and depressing, but let it serve as a warning for anyone who loves these worlds so much as to write fanfiction about it: don't let Elena's story happen to you.

Prologue 

Sobs and shudders shook Elena's frail body. Her hands trembled in front of her, as if hating what they were about to do. Slowly, she picked up the sharp blade that lay on the sink. Its smooth, silver exterior entirely hid its violent nature.

Clang. 

The blade fell to the linoleum. Elena jumped backwards, banging into the bathroom wall behind her. For a long time, the only movement in that dirty bathroom were the tears rushing down her face and the occasional shuddering that overtook her. 

At last she calmed enough to pick up the gleaming blade, now lying, desolate, on the ground. 

'Ow!' She whispered. Elena held up her finger to her face and examined it under the dull light. A trickle of blood flowed down her hand; she had cut herself while retrieving the blade. Elena laughed, 'A little extra blood won't hurt me.' 

As if just realizing the severity of what she was about to do, she froze. Suddenly, she felt dizzy. The floor spun beneath her and her head pounded. She grabbed the sink for support and took a long, cleansing breath. When she looked up at her reflection, she shuddered. _This is what I've become?_ Her skin was sallow and stretched tightly across her bones; dark rings lined her eyes; and her hair was thin and messy. She had the appearance of one who was dying. A moment of doubt filled her, _why am I doing this?_ But the moment quickly passed. For the third time in five minutes, she picked up the blade. 'For paradise.' She said. 'For Valinor. For Middle-Earth. For the world that I belong to.' 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she raised the blade above her wrist. After a brief hesitation, she slashed the blade deeply across her forearm. 

The pain was more intense than anything that she had ever experienced. Though the blade only sliced her wrist, it felt as if her entire body was being cut open. Then, as suddenly as it started, the pain disappeared; replaced by an adrenaline rush. Rejuvenated by the ecstasy soaring through her, she sliced her other arm. The same excruciating pain followed by the same thrill. 

The deed done, Elena sat on the floor, fascinated by the rivers of red shooting out of her arms. She thought of her life, her memories, friends, and family…until her mind was blank and she no longer thought: she merely existed. And then the room began to slide out of focus. 

Molly took the stairs by twos, her pigtails bouncing cheerfully behind her. 'Ellie! Ellie! Guess what? We read The Hobbit in school today!' Molly reached the second story landing and poked her head into her big sister's room. The stereo was still playing, the TV was paused on a close-up of Aragorn's face, and yet, Elena was nowhere to be found. 

'Ellie?' Molly asked tentatively. She faced her sister's closed bathroom door. 'Ellie?' There was no answer. Pressing her ear to the door, Molly strained to hear Elena, but all was silent. Even the CD in the stereo had stopped. Molly carefully tried the handle of the door; it opened. Slowly, she pushed the door completely open. 

Molly screamed and ran downstairs. 

The technician in the ambulance bent over Elena. He turned to another and said, 'She's still conscious.' 

Elena gazed up through half-closed eyes. A hazy image loomed over her face. 

'Can you hear me, miss?' The technician asked. 

Elena mumbled something incoherent. But at her funeral a week later, the technician recalled hearing her say, 'Four pairs of dice,' though he hadn't the faintest idea what it meant. 


	2. The Punishment

Author's Note: This is the second version of _Chapter 2 The Prophecy_.

Chapter 2 The Prophecy 

She lay in a feather bed, surrounded by the softest of sheets. In the distance a harp sang softly. Warm light streamed into the room. From the open window drifted the scent of flowers: lavenders, roses, elanor, and niphredil. _This must be paradise_, thought Elena. _I am home at last!_ Her eyes still closed, she stretched leisurely. 

A breath of sweet wind caressed her face. _Wake up_. It whispered. _Open your eyes. Look around you. _

Obeying that sweet breath, Elena opened her brown eyes. As soon as she had done so, she wished that she hadn't. 

She was not in a feather bed, surrounded by soft sheets, but a coffin, surrounded by dirt. No warm light was there for her, nor the sweet scent of flowers. Instead, dead faces stared at her, some jeering and some pitying. They reached for her with rotting arms, grabbing, dragging, strangling. 

'No!' She shouted at them. 'No! This is a dream.' Elena tore her arms, still gushing blood, from their grasp. To test the reality, she bit her hand and screamed at the pain. 

The corpses laughed at her. 'That hurt, did it not?' 

Elena's eyes filled with tears. Desperately, she covered her head with her arms, but the blood flowing from her wrists and hand had not stopped, covering her hair and face with the sticky red liquid. 'Go away!' 

'Go away?' They asked mockingly. 'You tell one of your own kind to go away? You're one of us now; we won't go away!' 

Elena shook her head. 'No! I'm not! I'm not one of you!' 

'But that's what you wanted, wasn't it? To be a part of this world? Well, my dear, you are a part of this world…the world of the dead!' 

Stumbling, Elena tried to run. She tried to run from the hideous monsters that clutched her and claimed her for their own. No. How could it have happened? She was dead, yes, but only in her world. The _real_ world. She was not supposed to be dead in Middle-Earth as well. Was she even in Middle-Earth? Or was she in hell? After all, the bible condemned anyone who committed suicide… 

As if reading her mind, they sneered, 'hell? You know nothing of hell. _Yet_.' 

But Elena would not hear them. She would not give up on her vision of paradise. In a last desperate act, she cried out for the only God she ever knew: 'A Elbereth! Elbereth! Save me!' 

She had a last fleeting glimpse of the corpses reaching their gnarled hands towards her, and then they were gone. Elena found herself sprawled on the marble floors of a magnificent hall. Walking towards her was the most beautiful woman that she had ever seen. Her eyes were pools of wisdom, her skin as pale as the moon. She was tall and yet weighted down, as if upon her shoulders sat the weight of the world. Her face was joyless as she surveyed the girl bowing before her.

'Elbereth.' She whispered, her eyes on the hem of her gown. 

The woman said quietly, 'I am not She, who rules in Valinor and Middle-Earth, whose throne is upon mighty Taniquetil. I am merely a Maia, and the elves have named me Morniedil, Darkness-loving.' 

'Where am I?' Elena asked. She looked around the beautiful hall. 

'You are in Valinor, the Blessed Realm, though your coming brings desecration.' 

'What---but I…' 

'Yet still I must treat you kindly, on the orders of the Queen.' Morniedil looked as if this was not to her liking at all. 'Come with me, Elena Child of Men, you must rest before the Queen will see you.' 

Morniedil led her through many outside walkways. The sky was clear and blue, and the air calm. They passed numerous gardens and rolling hills with views of the sea. Nevertheless, Elena felt uneasy. It was not until Morniedil had left her to rest in a bedchamber that she realized why: in all the gardens and luxurious grounds, there was no sound of laughter, nor song, nor any trace of joy. Before she could dwell on this strangeness for long, weariness overcame her, and she fell gladly into the clutches of sleep. 

But her sleep was not sweet and dreamless. 

_She walked through the empty halls of the great mansion of Elbereth and Manwë, searching for something. She turned a corner and came face to face with a beautiful woman, who looked like a lass at first sight, but wiser and sadder than any lass that Elena had known. The girl-woman opened her mouth to speak, but no sounds came out. _

_ 'Excuse me? I didn't hear you.' Elena's dream-self said. _

_ Staring straight into her eyes, the girl-woman continued speaking, but still no sound came out. As she went on, she got more urgent. _

_ 'I can't hear you! What are you saying?' Elena asked, shaking the figure before her. _

_ Suddenly, more people surrounded her, and they were all angry. Though she could not hear them, their expressions seemed to be saying: 'Why have you come here?' 'You are not welcome.' _

_ Then, the girl in front of her turned into herself, an older, more beautiful version. She too, began talking, but finally Elena could hear her. 'You have made a mistake, Elena.' _

_ Elena gasped. 'Who are you?' _

_ 'The question is, who are you?' _

Elena sat up in bed. The room was dark; night had fallen on Valinor. But Morniedil stood beside her, holding a candle. 'Come. Lady Elbereth Elentarí shall see you now.' Morniedil led her through more halls until they reached a tall pair of double doors, wrought of silver. 'I leave you now.'

Elena watched Morniedil's retreating back until she was replaced by the dark, silent night. Then, taking a deep breath, Elena pushed open the silver doors. 

Elbereth's hall was more magnificent than anything that Elena could have dreamed of. The room was not large, but it was grander than any long hall of mortal kings, for the beauty of Elbereth graced it. The light of stars lit the chamber, but the light was as bright as the sun. The walls, floor, and ceiling were made of a dazzling white jewel that caught the starlight. At the opposite end of the hall was the throne of the Queen, under a pure white canopy; it was as silver and graceful as the woman who sat upon it. 

But Elena could not see the Lady, fairest of all the beings in the world, for Elbereth Queen of Valinor appeared as a light brighter than all the others in the room, and to look at Her was to burn the eyes. 

'Elena,' spoke the Queen. 'Thou hast come to the Hall of Varda the Kindler, where few of even the Great have entered.' The voice of Elbereth was soothing and gentle, yet Elena felt shivers go up and down her spine. 

When Elena said nothing, Elbereth continued: 'Hast thou naught to say, child? Hast thou no questions of the world that thou left behind? Hast thou no explanations for why thou art here?' 

Elena looked up suddenly, guilt flooding through her. She had not once thought of her family, her friends, or her old life. It seemed a million light years away. 'I…' 

'In thy haste to come to Valinor, thou hast forgotten who thou art.' To this Elena had nothing to say. 'Thou couldst not take the world that thou wert assigned, so now thou dost wish to be assigned another life? Another chance? It is not as simple as that. Only the Firstborn were given the chance to return to Middle-Earth, if they would.' 

'But I never was in Middle-Earth to begin with, my lady.' 

'Thou wert. Thy world was Middle-Earth, in the 21st age of men.' 

Elena's brain reeled. '_What_?' 

Elbereth laughed quietly. 'What thinkst thou now, child? Thou hast left thy own world in search of the world that was already thine.' 

'But how could it be? How is it that no one knows our history?' Elena thought of the Ancient Greeks, the Ancient Romans, and the Native Americans. Nothing spoke of them in The Silmarillion or The Lord of the Rings. 

'I myself have asked this question many times. But I know not. Perhaps Men have forgotten their past?' 

There was silence in that crystal hall as Elena was lost in thought. At last said the Vala, 'But the past is not all lost to thy people yet. For doth not The Silmarillion, The Lord of the Rings, and The Hobbit preserve thy history?' 

Elena said nothing. She was in complete shock. Part of her did not believe the Star-Queen's words. She felt as if everything had fallen apart around her. How could it be that Middle-Earth, the world that she had dreamed of for so long, was the place that she had just escaped?

'Now that thou art here, what would thee?' 

Elena looked up from her thoughts. 'What do you mean?' 

'Why did thou come? Thou hast come from the World of Darkness and brought shadow into the Deathless Land.' 

'I…How…I don't understand…' Elena said. 

'Didst thou not wonder why all was silent when thou arrivedst?' 

Elena thought back to the eerie silence that surrounded the mansion. 'I did. I wondered about that.' 

'And didst thou not see the corpses following thee into Valinor?' 

Again, Elena recalled the fleeting glimpse of the corpse reaching for her. She nodded. 'I did.' 

'They were the shades of the men of thy age. They remember and care not for the laws of Ilúvatar, and they would enter Valinor, and with their dead souls, defile this holy land.' Elbereth paused. 'As thou hast done.' 

Elena looked up at Elbereth, then quickly away, for the light was too bright. 'I'm sorry. Did I… Is Valinor destroyed?' 

'No. Melkor did not destroy the power that lies in this realm, and thou---a mere mortal, shall do it no lasting harm. But the sorrow and pain that lieth in Middle Earth and the worlds beyond was brought here, and for that thou must be punished. Thy loyalty to me saved thee from the shades, but to bring sorrow to the Blessed Realm is a horrible crime.' 

Elena stood up from her kneeling position before the Queen. Instinctively, she backed away. 'What?' She shook her head. 'No…please my lady…' She looked around, as if expecting guards to seize her on the spot. 

'I pity thee and I pity thy kindred, but my pity shall not dull the laws of this land. And so thou shalt be punished, though thy wish shall be granted. Thou shalt know Middle-Earth as thou hast dreamt of it, but no joy shalt be thine. Thou shalt bring sorrow to all and to be loved by thee shall be a curse. But first thou shalt watch the unfolding of history and suffer as the Valar have suffered, but when thou joinst the world again thy memory shall have been lost. And when thou art reborn, thou shalt have no freedom from death, but be reborn again, so that thine is a cursed life. Go now, and come not again to pollute the Blessed Realm.' 


	3. On the Shores of Awakening

Chapter 3 On The Shores of Awakening 

Then for many a long age Elena was forced to watch the world go on; but she did not exist: she was a bodiless soul drifting through the void. At last, Middle-Earth came to the end, the last battle was fought, and the cycle started all over again, but this time, Elena was a part of it. 

When the Firstborn awoke on the shores of Cuiviénon, they were in the spring of their adulthood. They looked with wonder at everything around them, but most of all at each other. Thus, before long, the Firstborn had children of their own. 

Elena was the daughter of Alquawen the Swan-maiden and Tauredil the Forest-Lover, and they named her Lomiel, Dusk-like, for her hair and eyes were as dark as the night, though a hint of twilight was in her pale cheeks. 

The elves loved the stars, which greeted them upon awakening. Beneath those pinpricks of light they sang and danced, rejoicing to be alive. But always Lomiel sat apart in the ceremony. Her parents noticed this and worried about their strange, quiet daughter, but she could not explain the gloom that always lay upon her. 

But one day, as Lomiel sat watching the dancers, a handsome and noble-looking elf sat beside her and said, 'Come maiden, why do you not join in our merrymaking?' He extended his graceful hand before her, and reluctantly, she allowed herself to be pulled into the circle of dancers around the fire. 

As they were dancing the elf-lord asked, 'What is your name?' 

Shyly and with her eyes averted, she replied, 'I am Lomiel daughter of Alquawen and Tauredil.' 

'I know Tauredil! He hunts with my father. But I know all of the children of my father's friends, yet I know you not.' He let go of Lomiel's waist and called into the shadows, 'Elwë, knew you that Tauredil who hunts with father had a daughter?' 

Elwë stepped into the light, and Lomiel felt her face turn bright red. He was the handsomest elf that she had ever seen. His eyes were the stars and his hair was the dark night. He stood a head taller than everybody around him, and strength abound in his arms. 

'This is my older brother Elwë, and I am Olwë,' her dancing partner introduced. 'We are the sons of Lord Vinye and Lady Ithilwen.' To his brother, he said, 'this is Lomiel, daughter of Alquawen and Tauredil.' 

Elwë nodded politely to Lomiel. Then he turned to Olwë and said, 'No my brother, I knew not that Tauredil had a daughter, nor that she was so close to our own age. Next time our fathers hunt together, you must come to our home and it shall be merrier than playing with the children.' 

In response, Lomiel turned even brighter, for from her father she had heard of Elwë and Olwë and their father's might. Theirs was a noble house; also the brothers were handsome, and Lomiel saw the looks of envy decorating the faces of the other elf-maids. 

As the days passed, Lomiel fell in love with the handsome young lord Elwë. When she was with him, she felt happy and safe, and she was less shy than normal. They spent long hours walking through the beautiful woods surrounding Cuiviénon, silently enjoying each other's company. 

One night, as she was sleeping beneath the distant stars, her dream about Elwë was cruelly interrupted. 

_A child stared morosely at her, her brown eyes red and staring. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out._

_ The girl disappeared, only to be replaced by a sobbing woman, running towards her. _

_ She too disappeared._

_ Lomiel was in a crowded room in a peculiar place. A table stood before her that strangely dressed people were filing past. Filled with curiosity, she pushed her way past them, who moved to make room for her. She reached the table, upon which was a box, inside of which a decaying girl, whose eyes were wide open. When Lomiel reached it, the corpse sat up and stretched its arms toward her._

_ Backing away, Lomiel stumbled and screamed. _

'Shh, Lomiel, he'll hear you.' A hand covered her mouth. 

She pushed the hand away, thinking of the flesh hanging off of the dead girl's reaching palm. Lomiel shuddered. 

'Did you have a nightmare, or did you hear that thing out there?' The hand moved away. There was movement in the shadows, and then Elwë unveiled a lantern. 

'What thing?' Lomiel asked. Her mind went back to the thing in the nightmare. Could it be that the creature in her sleep was real? 

'I do not know. We were dancing around the fire when a dark shadow flew through the sky on a great stallion.' 

'A dark shadow?' She repeated distractedly. She was trying to decipher her chilling dream. The people in it seemed so familiar, and yet their dark clothing could not have belonged to any of the elves'… 

Before Lomiel could think anymore on the topic, an elf that she only vaguely recognized had rushed up to Elwë. 

'Elwë Lord, he has come among us!' 

Elwë started, 'What?' 

The elf, panting, said, 'He looks like a man, but different, a great lord of a distant realm, perhaps.' 

Elwë said, 'He must be great, indeed, if he has tamed a flying horse. I shall go see. Stay here, Lomiel.' Before she could protest, Elwë and the elf had taken off at a sprint. 

Lomiel thought of the dead girl, then hurried after Elwë: whatever the 'dark shadow' was, it could not be as bad as the dead thing haunting her sleep. 

When Lomiel at last found the shadow, a great circle had formed around him, but even from the distance Lomiel could see that he was not evil. He was handsome, even more so than her beloved Elwë. In his face shone a light as bright as the stars. 

'…Do not fear, Children of Ilúvatar for I am Oromë and this is my horse Nahar. I swear on the Grace of Valinor that I mean ye no harm.' At the mention of his name, a distant memory stirred within Lomiel.

Murmurs arose around him, as neighbours asked each other of the strange words he spoke.

'Then why did you block the light of the stars and cover us in darkness?'

'I knew not that any dwelt here in the land beyond the sea. For here beyond the sea is my hunting ground, and never ere have I met any who spoke. But this night I saw fire flickering in the distance, and I heard fair voices singing. I followed the sweet song and behold, I have found ye.'

Again, a great muttering arose after he had spoken. They questioned him some more, and then the crowd gradually left the newcomer, instead forming around Vinye, his sons, and two other noble elves that Lomiel did not know. They were discussing the stranger.

Lomiel alone stood still, and soon Oromë's gaze drifted towards her. 'You are not afraid, Child?'

Boldly she replied, 'Your name is familiar to me, my lord. And a great power I see in you, though I perceive that it is not a dark one.'

Oromë said naught for a long time; he watched the slender maiden before him carefully, but finally he said, 'You have the gift of foresight…or something else. I wonder …' He stopped himself, his keen eyes still fixed on Lomiel. 'What is your name?'

'Lomiel.' But as she said it, the word tasted foreign on her tongue.

'Lomiel,' Oromë repeated, as if disbelieving. 'And how like you this land, Lomiel?'

She thought it a strange question. 'I like it fine, my lord, but I have known no other.'

'Have you not?'

Lomiel frowned. 'No my lord, I have not. Ever since my people awoke on the shore of the Lake of Awakening, I have lived here. Never have I ventured far from it.'

Still looking at her with those piercing eyes, Oromë suddenly said, 'Even in dreaming?'

Thinking of the dream that had haunted her only moments before, Lomiel stepped back, suddenly fearful. 'H-how did you know?'

Oromë smiled gently. 'Do not be afraid. I, too, have the gift of foresight. And let me tell you this: always pay heed to your dreams, for when Lomiel sleeps, your soul wakens and She has much to say if you would listen.'

Lomiel took another step away from the strange visitor that had read her mind. She backed away slowly, and then took off, flying through the woods.

Oromë's voice followed her: 'Remember to listen!' 


	4. The Departure of Elwe

Chapter 4 The Departure of Elw

The days grew fell. Rumours came of a growing evil in the distant north. Whereas before the elves knew not what to make of the mounting gloom; now they had Oromë to interpret the signs for them. And there was much to interpret; for Oromë was wise and knew them for the works of Melkor. And so he counselled the elves against Melkor, but there were still those who thought that Oromë brought their dis-ease.

To them Elwë said, 'Can you not see that Oromë is not evil?'

'You are young according to our years, Elwë, and you give little heed to the shadows that walk this land.'

Another chimed in, 'This was not the first time that Oromë flew over the sky, and when he came ere chill entered our very souls.'

But Olwë argued for his brother, 'How do you know that it was Oromë before, and not some demon of the night? For with Oromë's coming no chill entered our souls, rather he brought wisdom to us.'

Then a noble elf-lord that all did revere as wise, Ingwë spoke: 'It is true that Oromë has taught us much, but it is also true that evil abodes in this world, and it would do to take caution. For numbers of my own kin dared to wander from Cuiviénon and they came not back. What fate was theirs? Perhaps they journeyed to the far-off land that Oromë spoke of, and dwell now in bliss? Or perhaps Oromë made them into slaves? Or perhaps ill fate fell upon them indeed, though it came not from our guest's hands? I know not the answer, but I counsel ye: do as your hearts bid ye concerning this stranger, for if you listen to what they would say, truth shall be yours. But as for me, I will treat him courteously, for my heart says that he is not evil.'

An uneasy silence followed his speech, for they realized the insight of his words. Then, Elwë and Olwë spoke in favour of the Lord Oromë and many were swayed, but many still doubted Oromë and they left Cuiviénon.

Those that stayed and welcomed Oromë were soon glad that they did so, for he was wise and good, and taught them much to know. Thus, with Oromë amongst them, they were happy despite the growing evil.

Lomiel was among those who stayed, but her reason for doing so was that she wished not to be parted with Elwë. And though she was one of the first to realize the goodness in Oromë, her dislike of him grew with each passing day.

Elwë noticed this. In his great respect for him, Elwë was greatly hurt. 'Lomiel, what grudge do you bear our guest?'

But Lomiel said nothing, keeping her eyes resolutely to the ground. For how could she tell him that she was jealous? Jealous of Oromë, who was taking up all his time?

Elwë sighed at Lomiel's stubbornness. It amazed him how much Lomiel had changed from her quiet, shy self. 'I do not know how he may have offended you, but on his behalf, I apologize. I know him, and I know that the last thing he would want is to offend you.' 

Lomiel still said nothing, though she had to exercise great self-control not to yell at Elwë. How could he be so blind as to not realize how excluded she felt? 'Why are things so different between us?' She asked. 

'Oh Lomiel, you cannot expect life to be as carefree as it was when we were young.' 

'You speak as if you are an old man,' quoth Lomiel, 'not like the young elf that you are.' 

'For my part, I do not feel it,' replied Elwë. 'Oromë is wise and from him I have learned much of the outside world.' 

He stared out into the dark world of which he spoke. Bitterly Lomiel said, 'And what has the all-knowing Oromë taught you?' 

Elwë stirred at her voice. He looked at the elf-maid standing besides him, as if seeing her for the first time. Instead of answering, he brushed a strand of stray hair from her eyes. Lomiel blushed and looked down, the jealousy temporarily calmed. When her eyes regained their courage and wandered up to Elwë's face, he smiled sadly. 'Why do I speak to you of such sorrow? Now you are unhappy; I can see it in your eyes. But come, Lomiel, listen not to my ramblings. They will mar your fair thoughts, and I would not have you know pain.' 

Lomiel's heart beat faster; did Elwë love her, as she did him? 

Elwë continued, 'It has been a blessing to know you, my dear Lomiel. All the other maidens look at me differently: as a possible husband. I do not know how to act around them or what to do to please them.' He smiled wistfully. 'But I care only for running and hunting: for these are the pastimes of men. But you, Lomiel, are different. For I know that I can speak freely with you.' 

Why, then, did he no longer speak with her? She wondered. Why, then, was she discarded like his broken bows? A little voice in her head answered the question: because he no longer had time for her. Because _Orom_ took up all of his time and energy. All the anger and hurt that she had ever felt flared up within her. It was always Oromë this and Oromë that. Her voice came out harsher than she had intended it: 'I am different, am I not? Verily you speak, for I know no other maiden who would stand quietly while the one that she loved was being snatched by her, and by a man no less!' With that she sprang away, leaving Elwë alone, wondering what had just happened.

She flew through the woods, as swift as a hunted hart, and as livid as a lion roused from sleep. But the farther she ran, the more her anger ebbed away. At last Lomiel fell to the mossy ground, exhausted and heartbroken. _My sweet Elwë,_ she thought, _How much have I hurt you? But your hurt is less than mine!_ With that, she sobbed her way to the Land of Dreams.

_Lomiel was in a long, thin box. She tried to sit up, but only succeeded in hitting her head. She pounded on the sides, screaming for help. But nobody heard her. At last, her throat sore, she stopped yelling. Instead, tears fell rapidly down her cheeks. _

_ Finally, when she thought the box would flood from her crying, she heard footsteps. Someone lifted the box's top. _

_ As soon as the top was lifted, Loniel sat up. 'Thank you---' _

_ The girl in front of her repeated, 'Thank you---' She had short, stringy brown hair and haunted brown eyes. Her skin was pale and waxy. Out of both of her writss blood poured like a raging river, and one of her hands was bleeding as well. Strangely, she looked familiar. _

_ 'Who are you?' Lomiel asked nervously. _

_ 'That's not important. What's important is, who are you?' While she spoke, she pulled Lomiel out of the box. _

_ 'What---I don't---' Lomiel stopped talking as the girl climbed into the box and shut the lid. _

_ As if this was something she did everyday, from inside the girl called pleasantly, 'Would you mind making sure the lid's closed completely? We wouldn't want to be suffocated by the dirt, would we?' _

_ Lomiel did as she was told, although she was extremely perplexed. Suddenly, she heard a loud rumbling. Slowly, she turned around. Before she could even scream, she was buried._

One day, the whole community gathered besides the shore of their beautiful lake. Lomiel made sure that she was as far from Elwë as possible. On his great horse, Oromë sat before them. The crowd was subdued, for he was leaving, and they had grown used to his protecting presence. But Oromë comforted, 'This shall not be the last that we see of each other, Children of Ilúvatar. I go now to my kin in Valinor, who will be pleased to hear of you, but soon I shall return with news. Farewell!'

With his leaving, the shadow that he held back came to Cuiviénon again, more swiftly than ever. And the elves' heart was filled with fear and doubt, for in the darkness fell creatures walked and defiled the beautiful land.

Elwë was often away with the men, hunting these beasts, so Lomiel was able to avoid him. What did he think of her now?

Her nightmares had returned in a shocking frequency. Several dreams a night disturbed her sleep. She grew thin; her fair complexion grew pallid; dark circles lined her eyes. But this was not uncommon: the days were long and cold and food was scarce.

But before long Oromë was back from Valinor, and for a moment, it seemed that all would be well again. Unfortunately, Oromë's tidings were not good, for he spoke of a war that the mysterious Valar would wage. On the elves' behalf, they would destroy the threatening Shadow. And even as he spoke, great thundering shook the earth, as if thousands of horses bearing thousands of riders galloped across the world.

Then, just as Oromë had appeared to the elves, more beings on horses landed amid them. They were clothed in bright armour that shone as brightly as the stars, but the elves feared them. 'Be not alarmed!' They cried. 'We are here to protect ye, and as long as we guard this land, Melkor shall not harm ye!'

But there was more than one elf that wondered if Melkor was not the one that they should fear.

So The Battle of the Powers raged around them. However, other than what they heard from their guardians and Oromë, the elves of Cuiviénon knew nothing of the battle, save the groaning of the earth beneath them and the flickering of lights in the north.

But one day, Lomiel awoke to a glorious spring morning. The air was pure and in the wind was change. Thus, the elves knew that the Battle of the Powers was over.

Oromë left them again, and with them went their guardians. But this time, the elves were glad that they left, for they feared the Valar who changed the courses of streams and rivers and broke the land beneath them.

But again Oromë returned to them, and again he brought news that the elves liked little: 'Manwë, Lord of the Skies summons those that would come to Valinor.'

But who was this Lord of the Skies? He was a mere name to the elves: a bringer of destruction to the world as they knew it. So the elves refused the summons. But Oromë, who they trusted, counselled them to choose ambassadors of their people to go to Valinor and speak to the Lord of the Skies.

Ingwë was chosen, as was the elf Finwë. But when the household of Vinye elected their lord, Elwë strode forth. 'Father, let me go in your stead. The road to Valinor is full of perils, and you must lead our people.' So it was decided: Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë would go to Valinor to represent their people.

The date of departure arrived, and all the elves had gathered to see the three off. Lomiel ran through the crowd towards Elwë. She stopped by the horse that Oromë had provided him. 'Elwë, you must not go!'

Elwë looked at her, though she could not read his expression. 'Why not?'

'Because…because…' Lomiel bit her lip.

'Hurry, Elwë son of Vinye,' called Olwë.

Elwë nodded and turned to Lomiel, 'the days that I heeded your words are over. Without another word, he rode off into the distance. 


End file.
